I’ve looked at this picture a hundred times and wondered who might have taken it. My dad? Maybe, but is that a pack of Marlboros on the night stand? I don’t think he’d be too happy with me smoking. Maybe they belonged to my brother and we were sharing this room. There was a time that was true – when we first moved into a “temporary” house on Dhahran Main Camp and again when we moved to a “permanent” house there. Except it wasn’t permanent. Nothing then was. Especially not for me as I was at boarding school at the time and came “home” for major holidays (and then not even all of those). I don’t think this was the Chestnut Street house. I looked quite different.
Here I am watching Channel 3 Aramco television. This would be summer ’78. I’m thirteen about to turn fourteen. Wow, what a dweeb. 🙂 As I recall, this was a rental (though I suppose all the houses were). I don’t know who actually owned it — a company bigwig perhaps, but prior to this we lived in an apartment in Al Khobar, a city a few miles away, though we were all moved into this house before my first trip out.
I think by Christmas 1978 we were in the “new” house. Pretty sure Roger had his own room. My room in 1979 looked like this:
